Neither Reason Nor Rhyme
by Eliana Panthera
Summary: Quinn isn't sure how long she's known about Santana. -Quinn/Santana- -Brittany/Santana-


**Title: **Neither Reason Nor Rhyme

**Rating: **PG-13

**Genre: **Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

**Pairing(s): **Quinn/Santana, Brittany/Santana

**Word Count: **1,049

**Summary: **Quinn isn't sure how long she's known about Santana.

**Author's Notes: **This is the first time in a long time that I've written for Glee, and my first time at all for writing Quinntana. But they're honestly tied with Faberry and Pezberry as my favorite Glee ship. They have such a deliciously complicated relationship and I couldn't resist writing a fic about them.

Also, the title is from Mumford & Sons' song 'Roll Away Your Stone', which sort of inspired this whole fic.

XXX

Quinn isn't sure how long she's known about Santana.

It's been there for a while, subtly building itself up in the back of her mind until she knows it like a fact. She isn't surprised at all when Santana throws out two words that tumble clumsily to the ground and fight for space at Quinn's feet, "_I'm gay_." Santana's voice is thick with emotions, something that startles Quinn more than the revelation itself. Usually, Santana has that 'Head Bitch in Charge' mask painted on her face and her emotions are pounded down to hide under her skin.

But here she is, standing open and vulnerable in front of Quinn. Dark strands of hair fall into her face like secrets. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides, pressing against the stitching of her jeans. Fear and sadness and pleas for acceptance flicker through Santana's dark eyes. All of it seems more fitting for a sad, rainy day, and not this one. Outside the window, the sun is a bright, leaky gash in the sky and there are a few puffy white clouds safety-pinned to the blue canvas around it. Santana's complete brokenness seems totally unfitting.

"I know," Quinn gathers the words into a whisper as she focuses once more on the girl in front of her. Santana's lips purse and she's obviously a little surprised. Santana doesn't question it though, well aware that Quinn can read her like a book. There's a shaky pause, and Quinn can see the fractured reflections of tears now. They spread through Santana's brown eyes and swirl through the colors like stained glass. Quinn worries that, if she touches Santana, the girl will simply snap in half like a wing on a butterfly.

Quinn's stomach fills with acid. Her heart bruises the insides of her ribs. Santana doesn't cry unless it's a fake way to get sympathy, she's drunk, or she's tearing apart at the seams. And Quinn knows that, this time, there's no way for it to be anything but the latter. She may not act like it, but it bothers her when her close friends are upset. Especially when they're _this _upset.

A single, shiny tear draws a trail down Santana's cheek. Quinn catches it with the pad of her thumb before it can drop off the shelf of Santana's jaw. Their relationship is complicated. It has been from the first time they met, in kindergarten. They've always tried to out-do each other, to come out on top. But despite it all, they trust each other. They've never said it out loud, but it's there.

That's why it makes Quinn's body ache, watching her friend fall apart like this. Choking on air and tears, Santana forces out, "Brittany…" The sentence falters, fizzling out with a whistle of breath. Quinn doesn't need to hear the rest of it. Everything has connected in the last few moments. She knows why Santana and Brittany have grown apart. She knows why Santana was such a mess during 'Landslide'. She knows everything, and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach even as bile makes her throat burn.

Gently, unhesitatingly, Quinn reaches for Santana's hands. The dark-haired girl is shaking and shaken before her. Her fingers tremble against Quinn's palms, and the blonde carefully maps out the bones that she can feel in Santana's hands. She doesn't think over her actions. She just does the first thing she can think of that might have a chance at helping.

Quinn's mouth captures Santana's, and it's messy and desperate. Even through Santana's breaking and Quinn's comforting, their tongues fight for dominance. Santana tastes like cinnamon toothpaste and strawberries. Her fingers tangle firmly in Quinn's hair, and the blonde rests her hands on the other girl's hips. Their teeth collide jarringly, but neither cares. Quinn brushes her fingertips over Santana's skin even as the heels of her palms press against Santana's hipbones. Back muscles quiver ever-so-slightly under her touch. Quinn adds in her fingernails, dragging them over the rises and falls of the small of Santana's back.

This honestly isn't the first time they've kissed (It's a number settled somewhere around seven, though Quinn isn't sure what it is, exactly). Santana is comforted by touch―especially the sexual kind. Quinn has known this for a while now, as well, and she has used the knowledge during the rare times that Santana has come to her for comfort instead of Brittany. Their lips smear bruises against each other as they pull each other closer. It's rough and unorganized. Quinn hates being unorganized, but there's something about Santana's kisses that make it less annoying.

Quinn isn't sure what her sexuality is. She's scared to label it so she never has. And maybe she likes Santana, but it's not something she's going to share with anyone (At least not for a while). This is only comfort for the other girl, nothing more. It never goes farther than the rough kisses, and it's only a few moments before they collapse on Quinn's bed where they're safe until the blonde's mother returns (Which isn't supposed to be until tomorrow evening, so they have more than enough time).

Santana lies on her side, crying quietly, and Quinn curls up against her back. She trails fingers through dark curls and allows them to flutter over tan shoulders. Their legs tangle together and Quinn hums to soothe Santana's heavy breathing as her other hand comes to grip the dark-haired girl's. Maybe this is only comfort, but Quinn feels closer to Santana now than she ever really has with anyone else. Even when she was having sex with Puck the night that set off the chain of events that completely stomped on her idea of a perfect high school life, she had never felt this much trust for another person.

Sleep finally takes control of Santana's body, and Quinn watches over her for a few moments. She listens to how the girl's breathing slows. Her face is slightly more peaceful, less sad. But it's still there in the faint wrinkles joining hands at the corners of Santana's mouth. Sudden exhaustion tugs at Quinn's eyelids, too, after a while. It's quite persuasive and she can't fight it for long.

Even after she falls asleep, she doesn't release Santana's hand.

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